


Ghosts of Winters Past

by Komatsu



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen, Rindea only because they're married, doesn't really focus on the relationship, more tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 11:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Komatsu/pseuds/Komatsu
Summary: Years in the theoretical future (let's assume Bravely Third actually happened), Edea and Ringabel decide todosomething about the village of Gravemark. Make it into something more. Remember those long gone. If only they had thought to ask those long gone their opinion before they started.





	Ghosts of Winters Past

“Here we are,” Ringabel said, dropping his bags on the table. It creaked under the weight. “Our home for the next few months.”

Edea was already removing her thick winter jacket. “Great. It’s not leaking this time, is it?”

“No, it shouldn’t be. They fixed up all the holes.”

They were rebuilding the village of Gravemark, and so that Edea could see the first few months of construction through, were temporarily moving into the old, rundown Lee family home. It had been patched up as well as it could be, but the workers had said that much of the frame was rotting, and the foundation had begun to sink. It was a temporary repair, at best.

Once they had other buildings up, according to the plan that the architects had set out, they would move into something a little more… stable. For now, this old shack would have to do.

Ringabel set about to stoking the fire, helping to chase the last of chill from the cottage.

“We’ll go to bed early tonight,” she decided. They were getting work delivered, but it was still a cottage. There was very little in the way of entertainment.

Ringabel waggled his eyebrows at her, as though he had an idea for what sort of entertainment they could find. “Shall we?”

She ignored him, turning to the kitchen to go through the stacks of supplies that they had been shipping over in preparation for their stay. “Dinner, and then sleep. The sooner we get started tomorrow, the sooner we can leave.”

Sleep did not come easily, even after their stomachs were full and they both piled into the old, sturdy bed piled high with blankets. Edea snuggled up against her husband’s side and tried to will herself to sleep. The cottage was a great deal noisier than the sturdy Central Command. She could hear every last bit of the wind and snow outside.

And it sounded like it was calling for someone.

“Are you still cold?” Ringabel asked her with a murmur when she shivered.

“A little,” she said, but then added. “It’s just noisy. It sounds like people, crying.”

“Perhaps it’s the ghosts of those who died in the village,” he said. “Calling out in their grief, angry at the Orthodoxy for betraying them.”

“Please don’t,” she begged him. She hated ghosts. They were some of the only things that she couldn’t fight with her fist, aside from her feelings and nausea from overeating, which were also things that she hated, if only occasionally.

“Alright, alright,” he said, lifting an arm and beckoning her close. She immediately dived into his embrace, snuggling her face into his shoulder. “It’s just the wind through the drafts. They must have missed some. I’ll look for them tomorrow.”

“ _Thank yo_ u” she breathed, though the wind picked up, the noise getting louder. “I should have  brought earplugs.”

“I have some in my pack,” he confessed. She wondered why. “But try to get through the night without them, my dear. Perhaps if you huddle under the blanket it will muffle the sounds?”

He’d better not suggest that she do something perverted while she was under there, she thought, but nodded. “Yeah, maybe.” It would likely be all warm and cozy under the blankets too, since her head wouldn’t poke out and be exposed to the air.

“And while you’re down there,” he started to say, only to be cut off when she hit him in the stomach. He wheezed unpleasantly.“… While you’re down there, can you pull up my socks? They’ve fallen down to my ankles.”

“… oh, sure.” That she could do.

And give a kiss to his chest in apology.

It  _was_ warm and cozy under the blankets, if not a bit stifling, but as she nestled her head against her husband’s chest, she was lulled to sleep by the sound of his breathing and his pulse against her ear.

The next morning she woke up feeling bright and refreshed, laughing merrily at Ringabel as he slowly dragged himself out of bed. “What’s the matter?” she crooned at him, ruffling his messy hair. He batted her hand away. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“The wind was loud last night,” he complained. “I’m going to use those earplugs, I think.”

“You could join me under the blankets,” she teased him. “It was nice down there.”

“That is also an option,” he replied.

The day was filled with welcoming the workers as they began work on clearing out the fields. The hardest part of rebuilding Gravemark was trying to figure out what to do with all the  _graves_. No one wanted to simply build  _over_ them, but one of her advisors had suggested that they dig up the graves just enough to move the remains into a proper cemetery. It would allow the souls buried under the snow to finally rest, and they could hold a ceremony both to send them into the Earth Crystal to await reincarnation, and to dedicate the cemetery to their memories. It was an odd idea, but one that had merit. They had already begun the work, along with her father and those scant survivors, of cataloging the dead to organize the new cemetery. Even those who had not ended up with graves, their bodies burned in the futile attempt to contain the disease, would have their place on a memorial plaque.

By the time the sun was down, the perimeter of the cemetery had been set, tall metal spikes that would have more than enough room for all the known graves. They needed to clear the snow, in case there were graves hidden underneath it all, but according to all accounts, they had room to spare.

“Ugh,” she said, falling into the large bed. Despite the age of the bed, it was sturdy. Her grandfather had made it himself, apparently, back when he’d had a booming business and a wife who was expecting their first child, her father.

“Tired?” Ringabel asked her, lounging at her side. “We did a lot of things today.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, rolling over to face him. To help speed things along, she and Ringabel were helping as they could. Time was of the essence when they were fighting snowfall and winter. “I’m really stiff.”

He got the hint. “Very well,” he said graciously. “Roll over and I’ll work out all the kinks.”

“But not  _all_  the kinks,” she murmured at him as she rolled over onto her stomach. He sat on her back and began to knead at her shoulders, eliciting moans as the stiffness vanished underneath his nimble fingers.

“That’s my line,” he replied, smile audible in his voice.

That night, the wind was louder than ever. Ringabel had forgotten to look for the drafts. Flinching at the loudness of it all, they huddled under the blankets together as the wood creaked around them. Even Ringabel’s earplugs, which he finally told her he’d brought in case she snored, couldn’t muffle all the sound.

She found herself somehow managing to sleep despite the noise, and the next morning her eyes only slightly hurt as she slowly poked her head out of the blankets, rubbing slightly at them. Then she stopped to gape at her surroundings.

Snow covered the interior; the doors and windows had flown open.

“Ringabel!” she gasped, shoving at his shoulder as she stared at the mess. Only the bed had escaped the cover of snowfall. It was clean and clear. “Did you forget to lock the doors?”

Ringabel was staring, just as flabbergasted at it all as she was. “No,” he said, wincing as he slid out of the bed and his socked feet hit wet, freezing snow. “I checked the doors twice last night. I didn’t even know the windows  _could_  open. They were supposed to be nailed shut!”

He dug her boots out of the snow for her and she tugged them on, waking instantly as the freezing sensation hit her. They spent hours sweeping the snow back outside before it could melt and warp the wooden floor. As she tried to mop up everything, Edea found the nails to the windows on the floor, having been wrenched out during the night. She stared at them in the palm of her hand.

“Maybe we should board up the windows with leftover lumber,” Ringabel suggested, coming over. “That way, the wind can’t force the boards off. We’ll use three-inch nails this time.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s an idea.” But the nails had not only been ripped out of the wood, they were also bent. How strong was the wind in Gravemark to do such a thing?

There wasn’t much leftover lumber, but there was more than enough of the thick, three-inch nails that they used to nail the window frames shut once more, and Ringabel nailed a board to the bottom of each frame, to reinforce them. Edea helped him, holding the boards in place as they went to each one in turn until all the windows were shut. She wasn’t sure what they would do about the doors, but Ringabel promised to figure out something.

Her mood for the day was already spoiled due to the rude awakening. She spent the rest of it feeling uneasy and unhappy, strangely restless under her skin. Ringabel also seemed to be in a mood, withdrawing from her as they both focused on meeting with the contractors that were starting to clear the snow from the fields. They had decided to go in sections, erecting large tents that would prevent additional snowfall from covering the grass as they worked to excavate the graves. It was a matter of scheduling it all.

She was in such a bad mood that she retired to the cabin early, checking it over to make sure all the melted snow was no longer covering the floor. Then, she started on dinner. Food always made her feel better.

Ringabel came home a couple of hours later, after dark.

“Where were you?” she asked him, even as she continued to stir the pot full of stew. She’d been alone for hours now, and the weird feeling she had wasn’t getting any better. Seeing him lifted her spirits, if only a small amount.

“I was talking to Foreman Albright about tomorrow’s plans,” Ringabel replied. He hung up his jacket before he turned to come to her. “What’s wrong? I can tell you’ve been jumpy all day.”

“I have not,” she weakly protested. But she had. She knew she had. She’d spent nights in Gravemark before, more than once, but something was different this time. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Perhaps just a bit,” Ringabel said. He walked over to where she was cooking and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Is it about this morning? I was told by the foreman that the boards should hold, and if they start to come loose again, they’ll come by with screws. The cabin only needs to last until the new ones are built. Then we can move into one of those.”

She shuddered. Those days couldn’t come soon enough, and yet she knew they were fortunate. The workers were living in even more temporary housing, tents that had just enough insulation to keep the cold out. The cabin was a mansion in comparison. Once enough graves had been cleared, they would begin construction on both roads and buildings. A permanent building to house the workers was planned to eventually become the mayoral office of the new village.

“It’s that and a few other things,” she confessed. “I just…  have this weird feeling.”

“Do you think it’s ghosts?” he asked her, tilting a head. “Ghosts being disturbed now that their final resting place is being dug up? There are graves right in the backyard. In fact, I’m quite sure that someone has died in this very - ”

“Don’t!” she cried, smacking his shoulder. “No ghosts! Ringabel!”

“What else do you think it could be? I’ve been having an odd feeling as well,” he confessed. “Something is odd.”

“We’ve  _seen_  ghosts,” she reminded him. “Remember, in Grapp Keep? They’re visible and they’re depressing and there’s definitely  _no_  ghosts here.” She glanced around the cabin. Nope, no ghosts. Just the wind blowing outside. The temperature had dropped after dark and the light in the cabin was very dim now, only the fire and the lanterns they’d set up, but there were still no ghosts.

“Then if not ghosts, perhaps just some residual negativity?” he suggested. “I’ve heard of an ominous presence over battlefields where many died. A malevolent malediction.”

That was just as bad!

Edea groaned to herself. “Can we just say that the cabin is old and that it’s leaky and is really past its prime? No one looked after it for decades, and it’s a wonder that it’s still standing at all. Once we’re done moving all the graves and we’ve got the other buildings up, we can tear it down and - ”

The door blew open, showering them with frigid snow. Edea shrieked. Ringabel shrieked louder.

“I didn’t lock it!” he shouted, as he turned to grab the door to slam it shut. Edea had danced away from the blast of air as well as she could, but she was still shivering with  _cold_  now even after he closed the door and firmly locked it, including pulling the newly installed chain shut.

Then, he grabbed his jacket from the hook at the door and tossed it at his wife. Snow had streaked across the floor.

“I’ll clean up,” he said, visibly shaken. “We’ll eat dinner and warm up after the snow is swept out.”

Despite the sudden snow, the soup she’d been making was still very warm, bubbling pleasantly. With tense hands nearly covered by his jacket sleeves, Edea ladled it into bowls and set it out onto the table along with bread and roasted yams. All foods that would fill their stomachs and keep them warm.

She didn’t really want to stay overnight in the cabin anymore, but they couldn’t find another place to sleep now.  Before Ringabel settled down at the table with her, he checked the back door as well, and the windows. Only then did he pull up a chair beside her.

“I’ll have the foreman look over the cabin again,” he decided. “Perhaps the heat is warping the wood? Since it’s been cold and unused for so long.”

Edea had her doubts; surely it didn’t really work that way, but she nodded regardless. “That sounds good. Maybe we should go to bed early?”

Despite the fires they’d kept going constantly, as well as the hot food in front of them, the air in the cabin felt colder than ever. Edea hoped it was because of the blast of snow, and that it would eventually warm up, but she didn’t want to sit around and wait. In bed, she and Ringabel could cuddle and maybe make their own heat.

Ringabel nodded. “Going to bed early will allow us to wake early. Besides, it’s… getting a bit cold.”

“I noticed,” she replied dryly, dipping a piece of bread into the hot soup. “Think we can get central heating installed in the new buildings?”

Was it her imagination or was it even colder now?

Ringabel shrugged, seeming to think. Central heating was still a technology they were working out, and slowly getting installed into Central Command. It had been mostly a rhetorical question, but she seriously wanted to do  _something_  about the chill.

Were the workers having this many problems in their tents? They were kept well-insulated, with big fires and many people in the same space to help keep warm. Maybe she and Ringabel would move into one of those tents if they kept having problems in the cabin…

After putting the leftovers in the icebox, they retired to bed. Strange energy filled her, making her restless and exhausted all at once as she stretched out in the large bed. The mattress had been freshly stuffed with straw, and the sheets had been collected and washed just before their visit, so it was very comfortable, but she didn’t feel right lying in it all the same.

“Ugh,” she said, turning to bury her face into Ringabel’s shoulder. All this talk about ghosts and people dying were freaking her out, and in her opinion, he owed her. At least the wind wasn’t as loud tonight. The boards were keeping the windows from rattling too much and muffled some of the sounds from outdoors.

Ringabel planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Do you need some kinks worked out again? Actual kinks this time?”

“Ugh,” she repeated, squeezing him about the waist. She wasn’t really in the mood for anything too heavy, especially not with the restlessness she felt, but maybe if they did some hardcore cuddling? Yeah, that sounded good. “Just hold me,” she decided.

“Very well,” he replied, and rolled over on top of her so that he could press her into the mattress. His body heat added an extra layer from the cold of the air and chased out the odd feeling in her limbs. She went to sleep with heat surrounding her at all sides and the sound of her husband’s heartbeat muffling the sound of the snow.


End file.
